Better Late
by EternalOphelia
Summary: [OneShot] HGDM. A songfic to the song Cry, Cry, Cry by Johnny Cash. After the war. Hermione and friends live together. She dates often but, even though she sleeps with him on occasion, refuses to get close to Draco. RR!


Better Late

Everyone knew it would happen. What they didn't know, however, was just how right they were. The war was over, the Light Side being victorious. But everything was so different—_everyone_ was so different—that it hardly seemed worth it anymore. Sure they had triumphed over Voldemort, but did that really matter if the war had left the land barren and useless? Did it matter if, to save them, Harry Potter had sacrificed himself? If Ginny Weasley had taken her own life after Harry was gone?

Bottom line: everything was different, and _nothing_ could change that.

No one asked questions when Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood and Seamus Finnagin moved into a four-bedroom flat in London a few months after the end of the war. Draco had proved his worth during the war and, over the course of the three years that it spanned, had become friends with those he'd hurt so terribly at school. Not that they hung out all the time, or even conversed all that much—but still, when it counted, they were there for each other.

Now, a year and a half later, they were still living together. But, unbeknownst to them, everything was about to change again.

"Don't wait up for me!" Hermione called, as she hopped on one foot to answer the door, her un-footed shoe in her hand. She opened the door as she slipped on the black pump, giving the person on the other side a big smile. "You're early," she said, brushing a stray piece of hair from her eyes. "It isn't seven yet."

"When I got out of work early I wasn't about to sit at home for an hour when I could be out with you," a man with soft blue eyes and slightly-disshelved brown hair said.

Hermione blushed appropriately, then reached beside her and grabbed a Muggle-style jacket.

"Where are you going?" a voice asked just as she was about to slip outside. She frowned and turned around.

"I told you I had a date with Paul tonight, Malfoy," she said heatedly. True they were friends, and yes they had been through a hell of a lot more than most people three times their age--but they were still Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, and, when two hard-headed, stubborn, and prideful people live together, there is bound to be some tension. And, in their case, plenty to spare.

"Evening Draco," Paul said, gently easing Hermione to the side to give him a handshake. Malfoy sneered at the gesture, but took the man's hand nonetheless. He was breed of the high-society, after all.

"Paul," Draco answered, giving him a curt nod. There was no hiding the fact that the men hated each other. Draco insisted that he was up to no good and, as a Muggle, was untrustworthy. He was convinced that, if Hermione were to continue dating him, then he would find out she was a witch and, well, the argument never got that far because Hermione would brush him off as being jealous and leave the room. Paul's reason for not liking Draco was much simpler and easy to see—it was the same reason everyone had for not liking him: he was angry, rude, conceded, selfish, mean, manipulative, and arrogant. Paul was nice about it, however, and chose to describe Draco as "unpleasant". Either way, the two of them were polar opposites. And that was exactly why Hermione liked him: he wasn't Draco.

_Everybody knows where you go when the sun goes down.  
I think you only live to see the lights of town.  
I wasted my time when I would try, try, try.  
'Cause when the lights have lost their glow, you'll cry, cry, cry._

The huge, bulky grandfather clock in the living room struck four as Hermione tiptoed in, trying not to make the slightest noise. True she was an adult and didn't really have to answer to anyone, but she didn't like the questions and accusing looks all the same. But, more than that, she didn't want to wake up Draco. She'd had enough of him earlier and was not about to ruin her nice time out with his over-imagination.

"Isn't it past your bed time?"

She would have screamed had she not been expected it on some level. Hermione rolled her eyes and set her purse down on her dresser, ignoring the occupant of her bed and the way he was looking at her. When she finished brushing her teeth and was changed for bed—having done so in the bathroom down the hall and away from prying eyes—he was still there.

"You have your own bed, Malfoy," she sighed, pulling down her hair.

"Yes," he answered. "But yours is so much more comfortable." He slipped off the bed and came up behind her at her vanity, easily taking the brush out of her hands. She was about to protest, when, instead of tossing it aside, he began to comb her hair for her. She eased into his ministrations, the massaging way he raked the brush through her hair extremely soothing after having it pulled back all night.

Before she could stop herself she let out a small moan of pleasure.

"Malfoy," she said, stopping his hand mid-stroke.

"What?" he asked with mock-naivety.

Growing angry, she ripped the brush from his hand and hurled it across the room. It rocketed into a lamp and, with a swiftness Draco could never master in any amount of study, she repaired it with a flick of her wand. The lamp hadn't enough time to even make a sound, so fast was her magic.

"Please leave."

"I'll go," he said, placing a warm hand on her shoulder, "on one condition."

"Malfoy—"

Gently he pulled her to her feet, his hands coming to rest on her hips. Against her will she smiled up at him, he being a good head and a half taller than her.

"Come with me."

No matter her verbal protests, Hermione could not compete with her brain. And her brain was telling her she wanted Draco.

Before the door could close behind them, Draco had Hermione on his bed, pulling at her loose pajama bottoms as if they'd caused him personal harm. He smirked devilishly up at her when he saw she wore no underwear.

"Were you expecting me to be in your room?" he asked, placing a sizzling kiss on her inner thigh.

Trembling, she whispered, "Of-of course not." She wanted to knee him in the groin for what he did to her, the way he made her crumble into a puddle of mush at the slightest touch. There was a very good reason Hermione kept her distance from Draco; he knew just how to make her fall apart.

He kissed his way up her body until he reached her lips.

"Why do you go out with that Muggle?" he asked as he removed her tight-fitted black tank top, the only piece of clothing left in his way.

"Because I like him," she said instantly.

"Liar. He has nothing on me. You're only dating him out of spite."

"That's not true." She squirmed out from under him, backing herself against the headboard. "He's one hundred times the man you are, Malfoy." It bit harshly, but then it was meant to.

"Are you telling me that everytime you come to by bed it means _nothing_ to you?" It was his turn to be angry.

"Nothing more than sex."

Draco nodded stiffly and stood up, his full height seeming imposing now, rather than seductive.

"How many men have you dated since the war? Ten? Twelve?" he spat, towering over her like a great wall of muscle. "How long is this new Muggle going to last until he grows tired of you like all the rest? Do they even _look_ at you when you see them? I'd bet money they don't. And do you know why?" His voice had grown so loud that, on top of being afraid that he might make his anger physical, Hermione also feared Ron or Seamus or someone would come in and discover her, naked, in Malfoy's bed. "Because they know what type of a woman you are, Hermione. They know you're only out to use them for a while, then turn your back when things start getting complicated. So they leave you before you can leave them. And then they forget you and go on with their lives. You mean nothing to them. You're cold and distant and a tease. And you're going to die alone because of it!" He took a deep, shaky breath and finished with, "It will happen, and when it does, don't you _dare_ come to me, understand?"

Hermione blinked back tears, wondering briefly how he had both managed to hit a nerve _and_ bring her close to crying when she hadn't since the beginning of the war.

"Is that why you sleep with me, Malfoy?" she whispered icily. "Because I'm _easy_?"

She was gone before he had a chance to even begin to think of an answer.

_Soon your sugar-daddies will all be gone.  
You'll wake up some cold day and find you're alone.  
You'll call to me but I'm gonna tell you: "Bye, bye, bye,"  
When I turn around and walk away, you'll cry, cry, cry._

_You're gonna cry, cry, cry and you'll cry alone,  
When everyone's forgotten and you're left on your own.  
You're gonna cry, cry, cry. _

"How does my hair look?" Hermione asked to no one inparticular, as she adjusted her bangs for the tenth time in two minutes.

"You look great," Ron answered lazily, flipping through a Quidditch magazine. "I told you that already."

"But my hair seems funny."

Luna looked up from the papers she'd been working on, a small project the Ministry had her working on.

"It's very curly," she quipped, then went back to work.

"What are you getting all hot-and-bother for anyway?" Seamus asked. "Isn't this your twentieth date with the guy?"

"Eighth," Hermione said shortly, narrowing her eyes. "And 'the guy' has a name, Seamus. It's--"

"Paul," Draco snorted as he entered the room. "Yes, we know."

Hermione had no chance to retort, however, for the telephone rang. She had one put in after the war, having decided long before that that she didn't want to date wizards. Not that she had anything against them really, but, after fighting with magic for so long, she felt it would be easier on her sanity in the long run to have good old fashioned verbal brawls with a boyfriend.

"Hello?...Oh hi Paul!" Across from her Draco stuck his finger in his mouth and made a fake gagging noise. "I'm ready if--...Oh, I see. No, that's alright. We can have dinner some other night...Alright. I'll talk to you later...Bye Paul."

Hermione hung up the phone and put on her best "gracious loser" face.

"He's very busy at work," she informed her friends, then made a beeline for her room and didn't come out until the next morning.

A week past with no word from Paul. Not a phone call, a note, a message on the answering machine; nothing. When the two-week mark started approaching, Hermione grew bitter and restless, lashing out at anyone for any reason. After one brutal fight inparticular, Draco had had enough, and sought her out in the only place she would be: her room.

"Oh Draco," she whispered as he came in, her face streaked with tears. "He's not going to call."

She climbed off her bed and collapsed against him, crying heavily. He went to wrap his arms around her, as he had done too many times to count, when snips of their last Paul-related argument came flooding back to him. He shoved her away and backed into the hall.

"I _told_ you this would happen," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "Deal with it yourself."

_I lie awake at night and wait 'til you come in.  
You stay a little while and then you're gone again.  
Every question that I ask, I get a lie, lie, lie.  
For every lie you tell, you're gonna cry, cry, cry._

Draco only managed to stay mad at Hermione for two days. After that, he couldn't resist her any longer and they were back to passionate nights and silent days.

It didn't take long for Hermione to start dating again once Paul was out of the picture. This time, however, Draco refused to even meet the guy.

"But he's a _wizard_!" Hermione cried. "You never liked anyone else I dated because they were Muggles, and I understand that, Malfoy, I do. But David is a wizard."

"Why does it matter if I like the guy or not?" Draco snapped, putting his attention back on his dry toast and coffee. "You're the one dating him, not me."

"Because you're my friend, Malfoy." Her voice was softer now. She sat down beside him at the kitchen table, stopping his hand before he could take another sip of coffee. "If you don't even meet the guy, how am I supposed to know if he's an alright guy or not?"

"How are you supposed to know if I _do_ meet him?" he countered. "I've never liked the guys you lower yourself to date. How are my feelings towards them the measuring stick? If that were the case you'd never date."

"You don't have to like them," she said, smiling slightly. "Look, this is the thing. We're friends. We fight and get angry with one another and want to kill each other sometimes—ok, most of the time—but, at the end of the day, we're still friends. I care about you, and I know, somewhere in there—" She poked his chest where his heart was and he shooed her hand away in irritation. "—you care about me too. And if any of those guys had been bad for me, and could really hurt me, then you would have told me."

He emitted a low growl from the back of his throat, then got up to put his dishes in the sink.

"Will you please do this for me, Draco?"

His back stiffened as he dropped the mug into the soapy water. It clinked against a dish, but was otherwise fine.

"Very well," he said coldly.

The next night he met David and did everything in his power to nail him to the wall with his invasive questions. When it became apparent that one, Hermione had warned David about him, and two, that David really was an ok guy, Draco had no choice but to concede and let Hermione go on the date.

"Thanks," she whispered in his ear as she gave him a hug good-bye.

"Whatever," he muttered, and shrugged her off.

"When are you going to tell her?" Ron asked. He stood in the doorway of the living room, his arms crossed rigidly over his chest. And he did not look pleased.

"Tell who what?" He played dumb.

"You know exactly what I mean, Malfoy. You're in love with her."

"With who?" He was going to play that card as long as he could.

"Hermione, you twit!"

"I most certainly am not!"

"Oh come on!" Ron laughed, unfolding his arms. "You think I don't know you two are sleeping together? We all know, for Merlin's sake! And you're bitter that she wants to date everyone _but you_."

Draco remained silent. As long as he didn't say anything, he could retain his innocence.

"But even her dating other people was fine with you, so long as they were Muggles. You knew she didn't want to get involved with a wizard for her own reasons, so you accepted it. But, now that this David guy is suddenly in the picture, you're coming undone."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco hissed through his teeth. "And I am _not_ coming undone."

"So you simply had Pansy Parkinson over for a chat last night?"

Draco's face paled.

"I-I don't—"

"You know what I'm talking about, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, advancing on him. "I saw her try to sneak out of your room this morning! How could you sink _that_ low? Huh! She betrayed us during the war and you slept with her!"

Draco didn't know what to do. So he did the first thing that came to him. He apparated.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ron was gone when Draco came back several hours later. And so was Hermione.

Too angry to sleep, he slumped onto the couch and grabbed the first book on the coffee table in front of him. Thankfully, it was a good read and he emersed himself in it to forget his troubles.

Suddenly it seemed—though in actuality it had been three hours—the door opened and in walked Hermione. She was beaming with the after-glow of a first date. Draco wanted to vomit.

"What are you doing up?" Hermione asked, smiling ear to ear.

_He kissed her_, Draco thought angrily, and slammed his book closed.

"I wasn't aware that I had a bedtime," Draco answered smoothing, remembering what Ron had said earlier. He was going to prove him wrong.

"I only—"

"Forget what 'you only'. I don't care what you meant. The point is I can be up as late as I wish; I don't need you mothering me."

"Alright," she said, kicking off her shoes by the door. "Sorry."

Draco was stunned to silence. Normally his comments sent them into a five-hour fight that left smoke for days to come. Something wasn't right.

"What the hell are you so damn giddy for?" he demanded, wanting to tear the smile off her face.

"I don't know why I didn't want to date wizards before," was her answer. "Less complicated my foot," she laughed. "Muggle men are so much more to deal with. Tuh! I don't need that."

"So the date went well then?"

"Oh yes." She came across the room and sat beside him, glancing at the book he'd been reading as he did so. "We're going out again tomorrow night. I think I really like him, Malfoy."

He didn't respond and grabbed up his book again.

"Good read?" she asked, yawning deeply and stretching her tired limbs. It was late, after all.

"You would know," he said unconversationally. "You wrote it."

"Are you _trying_ to pick a fight with me?"

"Bugger off, Granger," he sighed. "I'm busy."

"Granger?" she all-but gasped. "Granger? Is that what you're calling me now?"

"Because you're so informal with me," Draco scoffed. "The only time you ever use my first name is when you want something."

"How dare you! I do not—"

"Just shut up now and save your breath for your newest fling. I'm too tired to deal with you."

"Too tired? Too tired? Not a moment ago you were _too busy_ for me, and now you're _too tired_?"

"Yes, Hermione." He turned to her aburptly, giving her a start. "Tired. I'm tired of your complaining and crying and the headaches you cause me because you're too stubborn and blind to listen to a word I ever say. I'm tired of how willing you are to fuck me, yet how unwilling you are to actually s_leep _beside me. I'm tired of seeing you parade all your men through _my_ flat. But mostly, Hermione, I'm just plain tired of _you_. If I'm not good enough for you, then I don't want to be, understand? The next time you come to my door, it'll be locked."

He was about to get up, when she gasped back a sob, turning her face away to wipe her eyes. He settled back into his seat and sighed loudly.

"Do I really treat you that way?" she whispered, her voice clotted with tears.

"Not always," he caved. Her tears always made him cave. And he hated it.

"Draco—"

"Hermione, don't. Just don't. Can't you ever leave things alone?"

"I'm sorry."

He whirled around and grabbed her by the sides of her face. "Don't you _ever_ apologize to me, you got that?" he snapped, their lips nearly touched. She could literally feel the sting of his words. "There is no way I'm going to let you off with a simple 'sorry', Hermione. Life doesn't work like that. You can't go out with what's his name and fuck me the same night! You can't!"

"Draco, please—"

"I'm not finished!"

She was trembling. But he was too angry to notice. All he cared about, all that mattered, was telling her just what she'd done to him. No matter what it took.

"Pick one," he said quietly. "Me or him."

She shuddered against him, fighting every fiber in her being to keep from crying out. Or worse, kiss him. Because she wasn't going to choose Draco, and she never would. There was an uncrossable line; she'd drawn it so long ago that the meaning was lost, yet still she didn't dare venture close to it. She could sleep with Draco Malfoy, she could kiss him and caress him and rip his clothes off with the hunger of a thousand virgins, but never—_never_—could she be _with_ him. Never could she love him.

"Draco," she whispered, lifting her head. _David_, she willed herself to say. _David, I choose David._

But she never had a chance to. Her hormones took over and she rushed at him as fast that they both toppled to the floor, banging into the coffee table as they went. She kissed him so feverishly that, foolishly, he took her answer to be that she'd chosen him.

_When your fickle little love gets old, no one will care for you.  
You'll come back to me for a little love that's true.  
I'll tell you no and then you'll ask me why, why, why?  
When I remind you of all of this, you'll cry, cry, cry._

"Hermione?"

Draco sat up aburtly and looked around the room. He was lying in his bed, which looked as though it had been torn apart by wolves. He was naked, and he was alone.

Swearing loudly, he threw his feet over the side of the bed and pulled on the first pair of pants he found. He made it to Hermione's door when something stayed his fist. He dropped his arm, turned away, and headed for the kitchen instead.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five Months Later:

"Make a wish!" Ron called out, cupped his hands around his mouth.

Hermione inhaled as much air as she could, then blew out all twenty-three candles atop her chocolate-and-orange birthday cake.

"What'd'you wish for?" David asked, kissing her cheek lovingly.

"Nothing," she answered, smiling. "I don't need anything."

"Come on now," Seamus said, pushing a large box at her. "Open a present."

"Alright, alright," she laughed, and tore off the paper on Seamus's gift. "Seamus!" she gasped. "I needed new boots!" She leaned across the table and buried him in a great big huge. "Thank you," she said, giving him a sisterly kiss on the cheek.

She continued opening presents for the next half an hour, thanking each person as she went. Clearly she had wonderful friends; they'd all gotten her just what she needed. Soon, there were only two left: one from David, and one from Draco. She grabbed David's first.

"Oh honey," she cooed, smothering him with kisses. "It's gorgeous!" She pulled the extremely-expensive-looking diamond ring from the small velvet box and went to put it on her right hand. David stopped her, however, and slipped it her left ring finger. It took her a moment to catch his meaning, then she gasped so loud everyone (except Draco, who had also caught the meaning, and was snarling under his breath) jumped back. "David, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, 'Hermione Jane Granger, I love you and I don't want to spend another moment without you as my wife'. Will you marry me?"

She was so stunned that, for a full minute, she didn't answer.

"Oh, oh yes!" She kissed his so hard and for so long that the others wondered if she'd forgotten them. "Sorry," she whispered, blushing madly. "Got a bit carried away."

"Congrates, 'Mione," Ron said, giving her a kiss on the forehead, and extending a gentlemanly hand to David. "Take good care of her, Dave." He also shot a glance to Draco, but no one seemed to notice, aside from the receiver, that is. Draco gave him back a look as if to say, "What am I supposed to do about it?", then crossed his arms and looked away.

"Ok, ok," Hermione said, fanning herself in an effort to bring herself back to calm. "One more gift, then me and David have dinner reservations."

"Here you go," Luna said, handing her the last present. Draco stiffened beside her and she smiled dreamily at him, the way she always did. Either she knew what he was thinking, which wouldn't be that far fetched, or she was simply being Luna. Neither would have surprised him. That's how it was with her: she was either incredibly intuned to everything and everyone, or she was so far out in space that no one could even apparate to her.

"Thanks Love." She turned over the flat box wrapped in yellow and green paper. She'd been so excited and overwhelmed by David's proposal that she'd forgotten it was from Draco. Suddenly, her fingers were useless and she could barely get the paper off. When she did, she found what appeared to be a book with no title. It was very large and leather-bound. On it's spine, in real gold, it read: "As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape".

The words were so poignant, so beautiful, so true, that she found it difficult to keep herself together. Leave it to him to choose a quote that was so lovely and yet so harsh. She cracked the spine and was again struck with a crushing sense of beautiful, only this time it was coupled with regret and sadness.

Draco had given her a photo album. But not just any photo album; it was completely filled with pictures of her, Draco, Harry, Ron, Luna, Seamus, Neville, Ginny, and dozens of other people that had made her the person she was today. She stopped at one page inparticular, towards the middle, where there was a picture of her and Draco and Harry, taken only days before the end of the war, days before Harry had died to save them. Her and Harry were embracing, with Harry lifting her off the ground slightly, and beside them Draco was shaking his head as if he were too good to be thrilled about anything and trying not to smile.

"That's the day Potter received word from the Ministry that they'd broken Voldemort's secret codes," Draco said, because she had been so silent for so long.

"I remember," Hermione whispered, touching the image tenderly.

She flipped to the end of the album. The last page had only one picture, and it was of her and Draco, only she didn't remember it.

"I took that," Ron confessed, pointing at the image. "Luna and I had just come back from a walk. She had her new camera and was taking pictures of everything."

"I remember that," Hermione said, unable to take her eyes off the picture. "That was only last week."

She looked up finally, having realized how out-of-sorts she'd been acting, and smiled at Draco.

"Thank you," she said, trying to hide her intense gratitude. And to be honest, she was fighting to keep herself in her seat, to keep from throwing herself at him and begging him to forgive her for choosing David over him. Instead, however, she closed the album and stood up. "We better get going, honey."

_ You're gonna cry, cry, cry and you'll want me then.  
It'll hurt when you think of the fool you've been.  
You're gonna cry, cry, cry._

"What are you doing here?"

Hermione spun around to see Draco walking towards her, his cloak blowing open in the wind. It was the eve of her and David's wedding, tomorrow she would be a married woman. This was the last place he expected her to be.

"I needed to clear my head," she answered, patting the rock she sat on so he would come sit. He obliged, sitting as comfortably as he could. For a long time they simply sat in silence, staring at the rushing stream before them. They were only a few miles from their flat, not too far in the woods behind a small park. They had picnics there sometimes. Draco came there to think a lot, and most especially now since Hermione and David got engaged six months ago. Now he knew that Hermione did too. And it sort of troubled him, finding out something new about her; he thought he knew her so well.

"Where's the groom?" He tried his best to not sound bitter.

"His friends are throwing him a party tonight."

"Why aren't you having a party?"

She shrugged and sighed. "I don't see the point, I guess," she answered honestly. "Isn't the biggest party of all supposed to be the wedding?" She was being rhetorical, but, even so, Draco wasn't about to answer her. He'd rather not think about tomorrow.

"So you're spending for last night living with us alone in the park?" he asked, truely wishing for the answer.

"Draco." She looked up and he noticed her eyes were slightly red, as if she had only stopped crying a few minutes before. "What if I'm not in love with David?"

"I thought that was the point of getting married."

"I know," she sighed. "And David is so right for me, so good to me. He loves me so much, but..." She trailed off and leaned down to retrieve something from her bag. The photo album Draco had given her for her birthday. "Draco, I came out here today to think. To think about me and David and the life we are going to have together. But do you know what happened instead?"

Draco didn't need to answer. She wasn't asking him.

"I came here and I thought of David. I thought of how nice he is, how cute, how brave and strong. I thought about what he's done for me and what a great husband and father he will be. I thought of his mother, and how she didn't like me at first, but grew to in time. And how his father loved me from the beginning, and how close we are now. I started out thinking of him, Draco, but, after every thought, there was something else." She reached over and placed her hand on his. "After every thought I couldn't help but think of you. Sure David is nice and good to me, but he's also careful and protective. He won't fight with me, no matter what I do wrong. How can I live with a man who doesn't care about me enough to fight with me?"

"Wait," Draco said, pulling his hand away. "You're telling me you're having second thoughts about David because he won't fight with you?"

She nodded and wiped at her eyes that had begun to well-up again.

"It's more than that though," she said, finally opening the album. "Look." She pointed to the last picture. Draco sighed. It had been particularly hard for him to part with it after discovering it in Luna's pictures that she said he could use for the present. It was of them, lying on the sofa together, books having fallen on their stomachs; they were fast asleep, Hermione's head resting on his shoulder. It looked as though they were a couple; it broke him down every time he looked at it, which was the reason he had ultimately given it up. He couldn't bear to look on it any longer. "Look at us."

"I see the damn picture!" he spat, then stood up. "What are you trying to say Hermione!"

"I can't marry David!" she cried, standing up as well, the album clutched to her chest. Her cheeks were soaked with tears.

"Why not!"

"Because I don't love him! Because...because..."

"Because why!"

"Because _I love you_!" she all-but screamed, chucking the album to the ground. It fell open to the last page, which caused her to yell out even louder. "How could you do this to me!" she demanded. "I was happy with David! Things were fine! Why! Why did you make me love you!"

"I didn't make you do a damn thing!" Draco shot back. "You chose to be with him, so be with him. I gave you a chance nearly a year ago, Hermione. I'm sorry," he said coldly. "You blew it."

"But...but that can't be it! You love me too!" she yelled, almost accusingly. "I know you do!"

Draco didn't say a word and bent down to pick up the discarded album.

"I picked that quote for a reason, Hermione."

He was gone before she realized what he meant.

_ You're gonna cry, cry, cry._

"He's not coming, is he?" Hermione asked, turning from the full-length mirror. She was sick of looking at herself in her wedding dress. It didn't feel right. Nothing felt right anymore.

"He'll be here," Ron assured her. He and Draco would never be the best of friends. Hell, they could hardly stand each other. But, last night, when he came home so upset that he couldn't stay his tears, Ron decided to make an honest effort with him. And Draco, with a lot of persuasion, told him everything.

"Not," she said firmly. "He won't."

"Why do you always assume the worst in me?"

Hermione looked up so fast she got a crick in her neck. But the pain was gone the second her eyes fell on the very person she wanted to see.

"What are you wearing?"

"This is a wedding, isn't it?" he chuckled, smoothing down his tie. "I thought a tuxedo was appropriate."

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought I was invited."

"But yesterday—"

She was cut off aburptly when he came towards her and pulled her against him. "That was then," he whispered against her lips, then kissed her with such passion she could barely keep a hold of him.

"What...what changed your mind?" She could hardly believe it; she wanted to slap herself to prove she was actually awake.

"You hurt me so bad that I wanted to hurt you in return," he answered, bowing his head slightly. "The only problem was I couldn't bring myself to hurt you. And that's when I realized, even if you chose him over me first, and even if it took you this long to love me, that you still chose me in the end."

"Better late than never," she half-laughed, half-sobbed, tears falling from her eyes both in happiness and fear. She always had a plan for everything, always knew what was coming. But, with Draco, anything was possible. But then, that's why she loved him. "David is going to kill you," she said.

"David's not here," Ron piped in. She gaped at him; she'd forgotten he was there.

"What do you mean?"

"I went to see him last night, Hermione. I'm sorry I went behind your back," he added quickly before continuing. "Draco told me what happened and I knew that if you went through with marrying someone you didn't love then you'd regret it. I also told him to expect an owl from you with an explanation."

Hermione was too overcome for a moment to say a word. And then she pulled Ron to her, one arm still holding Draco, and kissed her best friend on the cheek. "I love you Ron," she said. "Thank you...But...why did you wait so long to tell me?" she asked. "The wedding will start in five minutes, all those people—"

"Did you really look at them?" Seamus asked.

Hermione gave him a questioning look.

"David's family isn't here, Hermione."

"Ok..." she said slowly. "But still, why—" Her words dropped when she caught Draco's smile. He lifted her left hand and gently pulled off David's ring, handing it to Ron. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out another ring, this one with three stones: a ruby on the right, an emerald on the left, and a diamond in the middle.

"Be my wife," he said, holding the ring out.

"Draco," she whispered, her right hand to her lips. "I...I can't."

Draco nearly dropped the ring he was so startled.

"But you—"

"I can't," she said, bringing her hand to her chest, "in this dress." She reached behind her, grabbed her wand and, with a flick, her wedding gown was transformed. Instead of a long, traditional train, there was no train at all. The veil was gone, as well, and she now had sleeves, long and tight, that belled out at the wrists. Draco didn't know how, but she'd managed to make herself even more beautiful.

"No veil?" he asked, his heart still thudding. She'd really given him a scare!

"Nope," she answered. "I want to see you the whole time. I'm not going to miss one second of this."

"Will you marry me now?" he asked, laughing slightly. Merlin, he couldn't remember having ever been so happy.

"I will."

He slipped the ring on her finger and Hermione could have sworn it was as if she finally had the one thing she'd been missing all her life.

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This fic came to me at work today, when I was listening to my MP3 player. Johnny Cash's _Cry, Cry, Cry_ came on and I thought: this would be great for a Hermione/Draco fic. Though, to be honest, this was not what I had in mind. I only thought of the basic outline. I never intended to have them get married at the end. But, once a story is started, it gets a mind of its own :P

**REVIEW!**

**Note: **The quote I used for Hermione's photo album is by John Lancaster Spaldingfrom Aphorisms and Reflections. I got it off of quoteland .com

**Note 2:** The line "How can I live with a man who doesn't care about me enough to fight with me?" was inspired by the movie _Three To Tango_.


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